I trailed behind a wobbly Kyle up Mason's steps. Natalie, equally as drunk as her boyfriend, rattled off a story ahead of us while Mason unlocked the front door. Cold air nipped at my exposed legs and, despite the jacket Mase had draped over my shoulders, my arms prickled with goose bumps. Kyle stumbled into the house as I reached the top step, but recovered enough to wrap his arm over Natalie's shoulder.
"Anyway, moral of the story is, don't challenge a German to a boat race," Natalie finished. "Kyle learnt that the hard way."
"No regrets, though," Kyle said with a screeching laugh.
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me. The couple stood in a fit of giggles at the base of the stairs. Mason, meanwhile, stood stiffly to the side, his free hand in his pocket and his lip in his teeth. He'd looked tense since we left the hotel – dragged out by a rapidly fading Kyle – and, apart from offering a lift in his taxi and giving me his blazer, he'd been silent. Worry pitted in my stomach: what if, just as I'd had a change of heart while we danced, he'd had the same?
"Anyone want some tea?" Mason asked, his voice silencing Nat and Kyle. His gaze flicked to me, but he settled it on Kyle.
"Tea? All I want right now is bed," Natalie moaned, snuggling into Kyle's side.
"Come on, Mitch, we all know it's not tea you want," Kyle said, grinning at Mason. My stomach turned as I anticipated what could come next. "We'll leave you two alone, don't worry."
I shut my eyes, unable to so much as look at Mason. He mumbled something under his breath, but Natalie drowned out whatever he said.
"Kyle." I opened my eyes, but stared down at the wooden floors. "Let them be, yeah?"
"That's what I'm trying to do."
"Well, I want some tea," I mumbled. I couldn't take the embarrassment, and the kitchen offered my only quick escape. "I'm going to put the kettle on."
"Night, Beck!"
Natalie's call followed me as I walked past Mason into the kitchen. Waves of tension hit me as I passed him. God, what was going on in his head? I stopped at the kitchen island and rested my hands on the cool surface.
"Hey, Nat," Kyle's voice echoed through to the kitchen. "I'll meet you upstairs in a bit."
As Natalie bid goodnight to Mason and the hushed voices of him and Kyle whispered in the air, I pressed my hands to my scorching cheeks. Curiosity spiked in my chest. I wanted so badly to know what they said. Was it about me? Shutting my eyes, I strained my ears. All I caught was a chuckle from Mase and another roaring laugh from Kyle, though. I lowered myself into a seat as Mason mumbled a goodnight.
By the time he entered the room nerves turned my stomach inside out. Mase caught my gaze for a second and his face twisted into a small grin. I dropped my eyes to my shoes, though, caught off guard at how his smile made my heart skip.
"Didn't make it to the kettle, then?" Mason asked.
I breathed out a chuckle. "Sorry, I'm just so done with these shoes."
My feet ached after being on them for too long tonight: even in normal circumstances, I couldn't last more than a few hours in heels. I kicked off my right shoe and it cluttered to the floor. The echo was too loud: without the laughter of Kyle and Natalie and with the current state of Mason, a twitchy silence hung around the kitchen. I cringed and lowered my left shoe onto the floor gently.
"How is your foot?"
Mason stood next to the kettle, eyes wide. He'd set his prized bottle of wine next to it, and the shiny blue ribbons looked out of place against the white walls and black countertops. I shrugged and lifted my foot above the island, grinning as his nervous expression softened.
"I think it'll survive," I teased, trying to lighten the mood.
"And your wrist?"
I shrugged and glanced down to my wrist. "It's fine, I guess. Same as earlier."
"Any other injuries I need to check up on?"
Relief loosened the knot in my stomach at the amusement on Mason's face. This is good, I thought. If I kept acting like nothing had changed from my side, maybe Mason would get out of his slump, too.
"Not that I can think of this second, but the night is still young."
Mason's grin wavered as I realised the suggestive implication of my words. My face flushed, I'm sure, but I kept on staring at Mason instead of tearing my gaze away like I wanted to. I swallowed as he crossed his arms. The intensity in his eyes tempted me to keep going down that path, but something held me back.
Awkwardness thickened the air with each second that passed. They dragged on, neither of us saying anything. Eventually, I couldn't take it anymore.
"Plan on putting that kettle on any time soon?" I tried to keep the words light, but the humour in my voice sounded faked even to my ears.
"Right, tea," Mason mumbled, shaking his head. He flicked the switch on before looking back at me. "Sorry, long night, I guess."
My heart sunk. What if he had just invited me here out of courtesy? Was he actually hoping I'd retreat into a spare room like Kyle? Or had he hoped I'd refuse the offer all together and gone home earlier? My throat prickled with foolishness. In an instant, his silence since we left the hotel made sense.
"Uh, I can go home," I started to say, cringing at the catch in my voice. "If you want to sleep or—"
"What?" To my surprise, Mason let out a chuckle. "No, Hart, don't you go anywhere."
Butterflies settled in my stomach and a grin fluttered across my face. After a beat, Mason turned around and opened the cupboard above his head. Rolling my lips into my mouth, I slipped off my chair. His simple words had hinted that his head was in the same place as mine. The tension between us, I guessed, must have had to do with the fact that we both knew it. And expected it. But didn't know how to act on it.
Right?
I rounded the island and leant back against it, opposite from where Mason set down two mugs. My heart raced just being closer to him. Enticement reappeared and, for a second, I contemplated just reaching for him now. Before I had the chance, he looked over his shoulder at me.
"Want the usual?"
"Yeah, thanks." I cleared my throat. "Need any help?"
"Could you grab the milk?"
On shaky legs, I crossed the kitchen to the fridge. The extra warmth from Mason's jacket heated my already flushed body more. Cool air from the fridge relieved it for a second, but I suddenly wanted to tear it off as I made my way back to Mason.
Coming up next to him, my palms felt clammy. I wiped them on my dress after setting the milk down. He shot me a smile, which then grew into a chuckle.
"What?" I asked. Had he seen me wipe my sweaty hands? Could he tell how nauseating nervous I felt? "Why are you laughing?"
"Nothing, I just forgot how short you are without heels on."
I rolled my eyes. "That's rude," I scoffed. "I'm only, like, a head shorter than you."
"Head and a half, more like."
He let out a laugh as I punched him lightly in the arm. The sweet sound made my stomach twist and forced me to grin along with him. He turned his body to face me, so I did the same. He had a point: the missing height left me facing his neck again. I raised my eyes, my heart pounding.
"Depends whose head you use," I said. "One and a half of my head, maybe, because it's so small, but probably only one and a quarter of, say, Thomas' head."
Panicky babble fell from my mouth before I could stop it. Luckily, though, Mason just grinned down at me, his brown eyes warm.
"Your head is perfect, Beck."
My toes curled at his comment. The breath left my chest as his Adam's apple bopped up and down. Oh, God, surely this is it. My mouth felt dry, my hands the opposite. Mason's hand blurred in my periphery, but it went up to fix his hair instead of landing on me like I expected. I froze in place as it sunk back down and came to a rest on the counter. My arm hung only inches away from it.
Do something, Mase; come on. I inhaled deeply. Mason's eyes flicked from my eyes down to my lips. There couldn't be anything else going through his head, but both of us remained motionless. I tired to telepathically urge him to do something. God, he'd tried to do it enough already – how hard could it be now when he knew how I'd react?
You can do something too, idiot, I reminded myself. But could I? Anxiety held me back. I didn't have the nerve, even if I knew the outcome, too. My hands curled into fists. You can do it. I dropped my weight into my toes, about to raise myself up.
The kettle switch flicked off as it reached its boiling point. Torn from our fragile moment, both Mason and I stepped back. Mase cleared his throat softly and grabbed the kettle handle. I retreated to lean back against the island. Hot with shame and awkwardness and dissatisfaction, I bit the inside of my cheek. Was that the chance? Did we blow it? My chest ached.
Water bubbled as Mason poured it into our mugs. The same strained silence from earlier returned. I shut my eyes for a second. Mason put the kettle back with a click. Opening my eyes again, they settled on the back of Mase's head. Warmth bloomed in my chest. I replayed the moment of us dancing and clutched onto the feeling that returned to my gut.
A teaspoon clinked against one of the mugs. I wondered what ran through Mason's mind. He must have been just as nervous as I was. It wasn't like him to be this silent. Or, based on recent events, to be this passive, either. Maybe it was my turn to take the reins on this situation. Mason had done enough to show me how he felt, and maybe I owed it to him to do the same.
Now or never, Beck. He set the milk down on the counter. I took a deep breath in and before I could overthink anything else, I stepped forwards.
"There's some biscuits in the pantry." Mason's voice ripped me from my head. He threw me a look over his shoulder and motioned to the side. "If you want."
When he caught sight of me halfway to him, his expression shifted. He lowered his eyebrows and his mouth opened wider. Feeling like a deer in the headlights, I did nothing for a second but stare at him, willing him to make the move I had already started.
Just do it just do it just do it.
I reached forwards with the biggest rush I'd ever felt in my life and, with my good hand, brought his face to mine. The prickle of pain in my foot disappeared, every thought in my head vanished, and every nerve in my body sparked as I pressed my lips against his.
For half a second, I wondered if I'd made a mistake.
But then Mason responded. Timidly at first, he moved his lips against mine. I wrapped my arm around his neck, tugged him closer to me, and as soon as I did, he came to life.
Hands gripped onto my waist; brought my body closer to his. Lips pried mine open, warm and firm. Under my hand, his jaw moved in time with his mouth. I ran my thumb along his cheek before following his neck down to the front of his chest. His heart raced beneath my palm as I flattened it, skin hot even through his shirt. His hand squeezed at my bum. As a reflex, my hand took a fistful of his shirt.
Dizzy with adrenalin, I slowed my tempo for a moment. Mason took the hint and pulled away just enough to separate our mouths. Heavy breaths sounded around us as we stood in each other's arms. The same smell of beer that tasted in my mouth lingered on Mason's breath as it tickled my lips.
Slowly, I opened my eyes, as if scared that I'd dreamt up what had just happened in my head, and I'd open them to see Mason still stood making tea in front of me. But they came into focus on Mason's face – flushed red – and his eyes, glazed over as they bore down on mine. A grin stretched his lips, crinkled his eyes, and turned my knees weak.
In disbelief still, I lifted my hand back to his face. My thumb traced his bottom lip, in awe that I'd just kissed it. Mason's eyelashes fluttered as he let out a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing under my left hand. His forehead came to rest against mine, and my eyes trembled shut once more.
"So," I whispered. Mason grazed his lips across mine. "You going to invite me to stay the night again or what?"
His body shook as he spluttered out a chuckle. I felt his lips curl into a smile.
"Well, Kyle's already in one spare room, but there are a couple more." Now I giggled along with him. My stomach burst with affection as I opened my eyes and met his shining ones. He brushed his nose against mine. "I would like nothing more than for—"
I cut him off by kissing him once more. This time, Mason turned and pinned me back against the counter. My chest swelled at the way his body pressed against mine. On instinct, my hand found its way back to his chest and I feebly tried to loosen the tie I'd so dutifully knotted earlier. His body stirred under mine, his hands removing themselves from my torso and finding my shoulders. There, they slipped between his jacket and my dress.
Mason's lips stiffened with a smile as I lowered my arms and allowed him to slide his jacket off. It landed on the counter behind me, next to the forgotten mugs of tea. I wrapped my arms back around his neck, expecting him to lean in again, but instead he just stared down at me, his expression steady and tender and vulnerable enough to spin my head and twist my stomach.
"You okay?" I murmured.
Now, his hand found my face, and his thumb glided across my lower lip. My breath caught in my throat. Mason nodded and trailed his fingers along my jawline, down my neck, and across my collarbone. His touch was soft, almost ticklish. Shivers ran down to my toes, and for the second time they curled where I stood.
He reached the hem of my dress. Mason must have felt my heart beating, because it ached in my chest. Slowly – deliberately – his fingers traced my skin along the edge of the material, down my chest, following the plunging V-neck of the dress, and leaving behind a blazing trail. While he did, I clutched onto his tie, drawing him closer, needing him closer. By the time he reached the bottom of the V-neck, his face was inches from mine.
"I'm really glad you're here, Hart," he whispered.
Yearning overcame everything in me at his words. Without even replying, I crashed my lips onto his, overwhelmed with the idea that this – us – was finally happening.